(Note: The "fire and cloud" quote is from Deuteronomy 1:33. The document editor won't let me make a proper footnote).

Thirst

I will die before I will quit.

Resolve is the most important thing. It must be kept at the forefront of the mind at all times, so that no wavering, no doubt, is allowed to creep in.

I will not quit.

It was day six of the seven-day survival challenge. Not only did she have to survive in the unforgiving Negev Desert, she had to cover a certain amount of ground. No holing up under a rock for seven days. If all went well, she would find the base camp and complete the challenge.

The two energy bars and one canteen of water she had been given were long gone. The Rule of Threes kept running through her mind.

Humans can survive three minutes without oxygen.

Three hours in extreme cold.

Three days with out water.

Unless you were in one of the hottest, driest climates on the planet.

She had managed to find shelter fairly easily each day, under the brown, dusty rocks that dotted the barren landscape. She stayed in and rested during the heat of the afternoon, then moved until darkness and exhaustion forced her to stop again.

She had only encountered two rattlesnakes and one scorpion so far.

The rattlesnake tasted pretty good, and she managed to make the meat last for two days.

She hoped an allowance for non-kosher food could be made in a survival situation.

On day four, she was overjoyed to find a small spring of water. She drank until her belly felt as though it would burst. She refilled her canteen, then soaked her clothes in it. She could actually feel her body re-hydrating. New energy. New hope.

Day six. She was traveling north. Or was it west? The sun was directly overhead. Time to stop anyway.

She dreamed of being back in school as a child. She stopped for a drink from the water fountain on the way to class. The stream bubbled up in front of her, cool and inviting. But she could seem to get her mouth to it. The water splashed in her face, on her lips, but would not get in her mouth.

When she woke up, her mouth was pasty and dry. It was almost dark. The last bit of sun peeking over the horizon helped her get her bearings.

I will not quit.

Quitting was an option. Mossad was tracking her. If she stopped moving for over twelve hours, they would come for her. They would consider it surrender on her part.

I will not surrender.

A lynx jumped out suddenly. Sleek and powerful, it landed three meters in front of her. She froze, and they eyed each other suspiciously. The cat gave a half-hearted hiss and bounded away.

Her stomach growled loudly as she walked. She had learned that the hunger pains would come and go. They could be ignored, and eventually they would stop.

Thirst was much harder to ignore.

Thirst was a constant, ravenous craving; a torment that weakened the mind and body. Tried to consume the whole being of a person.

She unscrewed the canteen and sucked the last drops from its depths.

I will not be consumed. I will not quit.

She walked until she could no longer see the path in front of her. The desert was not always bright and hot. The cold crept into the bones on moonless nights like this. She stopped and built a fire near a rocky overhang that would serve as shelter for the night.

"…in fire by night, to show you by what way ye should go, and in the cloud by day."

She slept fitfully, waking every forty minutes or so. She dreamed of finding the camp, of finishing the challenge. But he was not there to see it, and the victory felt empty.

As soon as it was light enough to see, she gave up trying to sleep.

The seventh day dawned, bright and hot as the others. She felt tired, dizzy and disoriented. She looked out across the landscape for, well, anything, but the sand and boulders seemed to blur together into an endless sea of brown. She stumbled forward, uncertain. She fell to her hands and knees.

She could stop here, and wait for them to come and find her. Just surviving the challenge would be considered a success. Maybe it was best to wait, to conserve the little strength she had left.

I am not dead yet. Therefore, I will not quit.

She scanned the horizon again. This time she saw something, a gray pillar rising off in the distance.

Smoke.

Was it real? Mirages were common in the desert. The heat rose in shimmering waves, confusing the eyes. She climbed up on a boulder for a better look, and this time, there was no doubt. A cloud of smoke billowed up above the horizon. It was the camp.

…"in fire by night, and in the cloud by day."

The camp was farther away than it looked. She stumbled in just as the sun went down on the seventh day. Friendly arms and hands welcomed her, guiding her to a tent where food, water, and fresh clothes waited.

Outside the door, the dark figure of a tall man loomed.

"Papa?" she gasped.

He smiled, a careful and controlled smile, as always.

"Kol HaKavod, Zivaleh. Well done."